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The Cost of Progress, Part 1
A few months ago, I used to work on a lab. A medicine lab. One day, our research went awry. We were looking for ways to cure a new type of unregistered, never-heard-before disease. We called it the Charles K. Syndrome. People affected by this peculliar disease would begin puking, and their skin would being to get hot and would eventually boil. The patient would then die after a few weeks. For a lot of time this disease was classified as a "mere fever", which lead to administering wrong medication to people suffering from this sickness, resulting in people dying from either using the wrong medicine or from the sickness. For 4 years we were working on a vaccine. The results didn't go well. The vaccine was made of natural products. It didn't work. It seemed most patients were extremely allergical to the ingredients. For a while, we never knew what happened to these allergical patients. Our boss would remove everyone from the room. When we came back, the patient would have disappeared. Then, we worked on a new vaccine, using new ingredients. It also didn't go so well, giving unexpected results such as paralysis. Once again, our boss would have magically hidden the body. This got a lot of us to believe in euthanasia. Each one's task would been divided. Some would collect people affected by the sickness or volunteers, others would develop the cure, and others would apply it to the patients. Due to our many fails in the vaccine, we decided not to try a direct cure, but rather something to slow down the effects of the disease, giving us more time to develop just the right vaccine. We first worked on pills, then on other types of medication. It was a SUCCESS. Patients who took the dose of medication just right would be able to survive for another 27 days. At this time, we were rushing against the clock to create the right vaccine before our patients would pass away. The life-extending medication could only be used once. We then made the last vaccine. It would increase the patient's resistance to the disease, preventing him from aquiring it. We applied the vaccine to a volunteer, then infected him with the virus. It worked, we tought. But as the days progressed, we kept the volunteer in a room, feeding him so we could examine any colateral effects that he may have suffered. One day, the door to his room was broken down. It fell from it's hinges, full of claw marks. We checked inside the room. Empty. This got everyone nervous. What thing could be capable of dealing such damage to an iron door? And were was the patient? One day, in the middle of research, all lights went out. I then procceeded to check the electricity box. Wires were cut, fuses were missing, sparks coming out of it. I went back to the main hall and told my companions about it. There was mass panic. Some just shrugged it off as a mere short circuit or sabotage. My friend, Tim, approached me. "So what's your opinion in the matter?" "I really don't know, but I think it's related to that volunteer we tested the vaccine on..." I left the main hall, and decided to tell my boss about it. He wasn't in his room. Instead, there were blood splatters. I rushed out of the room and didn't tell anything about it to my friends. But, obviously, someone else saw it and spread it around the complex. What followed was pure mayhem. People were shoving each other, stomping others, attempting to climb the wall around the complex and I swear two or three even got in a fight. Now, I know you're expecting me to "go out and investigate" like most people. No, that's not how it happened. That night, we had to sleep in the research center (the gates wouldn't open without power). We were all packed and split between 3 rooms. Some were sleeping, others were planning on a way to leave the center, while others were using coffee to stay awake. I was trying to keep myself awake. I was awake, but still lying down in my bed. After getting another cup of coffee, I started to dooze off. I was awaked by scratching. Like the sound of nails on wood. I heard something growling, then moaning. "Heh. Better fall asleep, I'm starting to hear things." But no, the scratching continued. I knew that the center had a basement, but we scientists weren't able to access it. The room we were in was made of foam, worn-out, very old foam. I wake Tim up, then asked if he could hear the sounds. He says that he is able to. Tim goes back to sleep. I don't. I lie on the ground to hear the scratching more closely. The ground rumbles beneath me; something cuts the foam. I fall. Category:Creepypastas Category:Real Life Category:Original Story Category:Creepypasta